


Talk

by swimmingfox



Series: Potential [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Mental Health Issues, More smooth to come I PROMISE, Potential forever, SanSan crisis, SanSan in trouble, Soothing kids' cuteness, The rough with the smooth, but still angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22436056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingfox/pseuds/swimmingfox
Summary: Sansa and Sandor have reached a crisis point. A couple of people are there to help.Continuation of the Potential series, my British multi-cast modern AU! This one is full of angst and definitely not the one to start with if you're new to Potential! Start from the beginning!
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Podrick Payne/Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane & Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Podrick Payne
Series: Potential [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/412825
Comments: 271
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luck/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This one continues exactly where the last one left off - Sandor's just come back down from the Scottish Highlands and the death of Gregor, and decides to tell Sansa the truth about Wylla.**
> 
> **As mentioned in the comments/end-notes of the last one, SanSan are having a crisis and if you need your SanSan to be beautiful fluff (QUITE understandable), you MAY not want to read on! This chapter is a little bleak, I'm not gonna lie.**
> 
> *****trigger warnings for cheating references*****

**Sandor**

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ he said.

‘OK,’ she said, with the face of a caring, loving wife who had just heard that her husband’s brother was dead.

He listened to the fear fade in him, to be replaced with a blank, dark space. He was going to do this now, and he was going to face the consequences. He was not going to be like Gregor.

She watched him, open and attentive, her hands clasped around both of his. Waiting. ‘It’s OK, baby. You can tell me.’

He listened to the sound of his breath, drawn up from his stomach, and how it was almost smooth again, after his upset and panic. He’d been shaking like a new leaf, and not for the reason she thought. ‘I should have told you a long time ago,’ he said.

A moment, which he didn’t fill. ‘Is it . . . about Gregor?’ she said, gently.

He shook his head. 

‘What is it?’ Her voice was so soft.

The dog lifted his head and looked at them both, before slumping down again with a snuffle. 

He brought his chin down to his chest, looked at the pale delicacy of her fingers, the shimmering silver nail polish she’d worn to Ygritte’s wedding beginning to chip away. Swallowed once. ‘I fucked up, Sansa.’

He could hear her blinking. ‘When? What happened?’

He glanced at her, back at the floor. No. Look at her properly. The fine, dawn-light colour of her dyed-blonde hair and the gentle curve of her jawline. ‘I lied to you,’ he said.

Her eyebrows drew in, just a little, but he knew there was more shock in there than she was showing. ‘About what?’

He would do this, because it was the only path. He was going to atone and not be like his brother. It was right. ‘About Wylla,’ he said.

She opened her mouth and took a breath, and he knew that she’d been about to repeat that name, before realising what he meant. Her palms loosened around his hand, the feel of cool air taking their place. She took another breath, tiny, sharp, and still didn’t say anything.

All he could do was tell her the truth now. 

She looked away, towards the wall, towards the photos of Teddy, aged six months, one, two. At the black screen of the TV. Her expression, though worn so lightly, was transforming, taking on hurt, anger, as she registered what it must mean.

‘I don’t understand.’ Finally, she looked at him again. ‘Are you – seeing her?’

He hadn’t expected that. ‘What? No. No, of course not.’ Shit, that was too much. _Of course not_ didn’t excuse him.

She straightened, her body coming away from him. Her upper palm removed from his hand. ‘Well, what do you mean, then?’ The words were tight, challenging.

‘I mean . . .’ There was a pressure on the skin of his throat, as if someone had a hand clamped at his neck, trying to strangle him. ‘It was more than a kiss.’

***

**Sansa**

She let go of his hand. 

Her world was unravelling. He had come back, and his brother was dead, and she wanted to give all of herself to him in order to make him feel better. Now he was giving her these alien, brutal words, words that shouldn’t fit together.

More than a kiss. There was an immediate deluge of images, of him and her in a hotel room, in the woods, all over each other, that purple hair – no, it had been green, then – her snarky face. 

There was a dead weight on her chest. On her heart. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

He lifted his hand, scratched his temple as if to remove something stored there, lowered it again. 

‘You said it was just a kiss.’

‘Aye.’

‘Why did you say that?’

‘Because I was terrified. Because I was kidding myself.’

She shook her head and shifted further away from him, from this man whom she suddenly didn’t know. Her breath was beginning to grow feathered, jagged. A shard of anger in her throat. ‘You had sex with her.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘No. Not –’ a flicker of something over his face, as if checking himself. ‘Not . . . full-on.’

‘What, then?’

Now he stopped, didn’t say anything.

‘So . . . what? Handjob? You went down on her? Do I have to keep guessing?’

He gave the slightest shake of his head. He looked so fucking calm. ‘She went down on me,’ he said.

***

**Sandor**

It was almost as if he’d hit her. 

She nodded, a small, bitter gesture, tears appearing in the corner of her eyes. ‘Not full-on, then.’ If anyone else had made her look that hurt, he would have fucking taken them apart. 

‘It didn’t – I know this doesn’t make it better, but it wasn’t for long,’ he said. Wylla, sticking a hand under his T-shirt, making him flinch. The cold horror of arousal. Her tongue on his ear. In his mouth.

‘What, because you came in ten seconds?’ She’d never looked at him so hatefully.

‘No, I stopped her.’ Wylla, yanking open his belt with a grin, unbuttoning his jeans. The unrealness of it, of her green hair, of the sodden woods outside. The blank fear.

‘After how long?

‘Sansa.’ He put his hand out to touch her knee.

She jolted away as if he’d stung her. ‘Don’t touch me. How long? Two minutes? Five minutes?’

‘A minute, maybe less. I’m not sure.’ Stop, he’d said. Wylla hadn’t. He’d put his hands underneath her arms, lifted her away from him. _OK, big man_. She’d looked down. _Literally. I was just getting going. Get going,_ he’d said, dragging his jeans back up over his hips, feeling his world come apart.

She exhaled, sharply, sourly. Looked up at the ceiling. ‘I always had a feeling.’ She sounded distant. ‘That there might have been more. But I told myself that I was being ridiculous, because it would have meant you lying.’

He looked at the floor. He was the worst of people.

‘Did it happen more than once?’

‘No. Christ, no. It was just that one – it was the biggest fucking mistake of my life.’

‘Why are you telling me now? 

‘Arya knew,’ he said, without thinking, and immediately knew it was wrong.

‘Since when? What, all this time?’

‘No. Only just recently. I guess Wylla must have told Jojen something.’

‘Wait –’ she looked past him, everything in her still for a moment. ‘So you’re only telling me because you were scared I’d find out from Arya?’

‘No. She said she wasn’t going to tell you.’ He clasped his hands loosely in between his legs. ‘She just made me realise that I should have. I know I should have. I was just too . . . shit-scared of what might happen if I did.’

‘So you lied. You lied to me all this time.’

He nodded.

‘And you never fucking lie. That’s like your –’ she let out a tiny, harsh laugh. ‘That’s your thing.’

‘I never lied about anything else.’

‘Just this, then.’ He could see the rage in her, just there under the skin. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

***

**Sansa**

There was a burning pain in her chest, sharp and prickling. She felt nauseous. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

‘Whatever you feel is right.’ He was looking like a fucking martyr.

‘Right. You chose the perfect time, didn’t you?’ He frowned. ‘You know, the minute your brother dies, so I can’t be mad at you.’ The words were flung out before she could shape them, but she refused to feel guilty.

‘You can be mad at me. You should be. I deserve it.’ He sounded tired. ‘I deserve whatever I get.’

‘The perfect time.’ She was hardly listening to him, caught up in her own fury, the knot in her stomach tightening further. ‘When we have a family. You waited until we had two kids, because now it’s safer. Because now I won’t break up with you.’ 

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve got no excuse. I know you just kissed that guy, and I just let it run on too far. I just – I don’t know, after seeing Gregor, I just thought, I don’t want to be like him in any fucking way. I need to be honest. Always. I don’t mind what you do – I’m ready for whatever you decide.’

‘But you’ve got our fucking kids as insurance, haven’t you? Because if I split up with you, it would be my decision, and I’d be the one breaking our family apart.’

He made a movement of his head that wasn’t quite a yes or no. ‘It would have been easier for me not to say anything, but I couldn’t live with myself any longer.’ The deep, cloudy grey of his eyes, the eyes she’d always loved. ‘I’m sorry.’

She nodded, biting her lip. She wanted to tear through the skin. ‘Yeah, you said.’

‘Do you want me to go?’

He’d made everything _her_ decision. She pictured Teddy and Florence, asleep in their room. ‘I don’t know.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll sleep on the couch.’

She suddenly had no idea how to talk to him. ‘Yeah. OK.’

*** 

**Sandor**

He woke to his name, and found her standing by the sofa, arms folded. The first of the day’s light filtering through the curtains. ‘I don’t want you to be here.’

‘OK,’ he said, blinking himself properly awake, and starting to sit up. ‘That’s fine.’

‘I don’t care whether you think it’s fine or not. I want you to go before they wake up.’

He nodded. Tried to ignore the feeling of his heart cracking open. 

***

**Sansa**

She stood looking at their sleeping children, her body and mind spent. In the hours she hadn’t spent crying furiously last night, curled up on herself, her mind had whirred, violent and surreal. 

Teddy had an arm flung over his head, his mouth slightly ajar.

Florence was still asleep.

***

**Sandor**

In the park, the trees were losing their leaves, dark twisted figures against the pale sky. There were a few joggers out already, dog walkers. A big golden lab was lolloping past him, its breath loud.

He felt exhausted. Like all thought and feeling had been wrenched out of him. He’d packed while she had sat in the kitchen, and crept into the bairns’ room to look at them, and listen to the tiny, fogged sound of Florence’s breath. 

He took his phone out of his pocket. Called a number. ‘Hi. Sorry it’s so early. Do you mind if I come down to yours for a couple of days?’

A young couple went past arm in arm, looking like they hadn’t been to bed. 

‘Aye,’ he said, and his voice splintered. ‘I did.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I promise that though this chapter is brutal (and was brutal to write), there is more sweetness in the rest of this mini-fic. I ABSOLUTELY PROMISE! Big love, as always.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PHEW, ta for all the comments and impassioned discussion in the previous chapter! I'm gonna put these up in quick succession - two short and errr, sweet(ish) chapters to come. Still pretty darned bleak in places so won't be for everyone.**

**Arya**

‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ Sandor said, on the doorstep.

She felt all her resentment drift away. He looked like he hadn’t slept in about three days. And his brother had died. She stepped forward and gave him a hug, the longest hug they’d ever had. Neither of them moved, even though he was massive and she was tiny. He didn’t seem to want to let her go.

Eventually, she pulled away. ‘You look really fucking terrible.’

‘Thanks.’ He sounded terrible too, croaky and broken.

‘Uncle Thandorrrrrrrr!’ Aoife came skidding out into the corridor. ‘The best uncle in all of the the world everrrrrrrrrr!’ 

She smashed into him, and he let his bag off his shoulder and knelt down to give her a hug, instead of picking her up and throwing her around like he usually did. He was still far taller than her. ‘Alright, trouble,’ he said.

‘Well, someone still loves you,’ Arya said.

‘Where’s Pod?’ he said, releasing his niece, who started dancing around, clapping her hands and chattering about Justin Bieber.

‘Oh, he’s away this weekend,’ she said, off-handedly, over the top of Aoife. ‘Back Sunday night.’

Sandor nodded, barely listening.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get a pot of tea down you.’

***

**Sansa**

‘MUMMY I WANT FRUIT BAR.’

‘You just had one,’ said Sansa, while Florence bawled in her ear. She was feeling shaky, fragile, as if she could shatter at any moment. As she shifted her daughter higher over her shoulder, the muslin slipped off her shoulder and onto the floor.

‘MUMMY PLEASE I GOOD.’

She leant down carefully and picked up the muslin. ‘Teddy, you have done nothing but made a complete catastrophe of your bedroom and you didn’t eat your toast this morning.’

‘I EAT TOAST.'

‘You didn’t,’ said Sansa, knowing there was no point in reasoning with him, and doing it anyway. Florence continued her tearful rage. ‘Florence, I just fed you.’ It was even more useless trying to reason with an almost six-month-old.

If Sandor was here, he would take one of them off her hands. He would jiggle Florence on one big forearm until she calmed down, or give Teddy his stern-but-kind talking-to that always seemed to work in the end. If Sandor was here. 

_I’ve gone down to Arya and Pod’s_ , he’d texted. _I hope that’s OK_. 

Wylla had given him a blow-job. Wylla had sucked her husband’s cock, and he’d let her. Maybe he’d asked her to. Told her to.

‘MUMMY I EAT TOAST I WANT FRUIT BAR I WANT IT.’

He had lied to her face. He’d said it was just a kiss. 

Florence pulled her head back, her face violently red, and screamed.

‘Oh my God,’ said Sansa.

‘OH MY DOG,’ said Teddy. 

Bowie barked, loudly. He hadn’t been walked today, because on Saturday mornings Sandor would take he and Teddy, and sometimes Florence, out to the park and give her an hour of blissful lie-in with her book and a cup of tea.

‘DOG SIT!’ said Teddy, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to train Bowie.

Bowie barked. Florence roared. Teddy shouted.

Sansa sat down at the kitchen table, her stomach churning, feeling so alone amongst the racket. Alone, and betrayed.

The doorbell rang.

She put her head down for a moment, before getting up, Florence still yelling. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.

When she opened the door, Pod turned round and gave her a big, wide beam, before noticing the noise coming from all small things in the house and looking a little more concerned.

‘ _Pod_ ,’ she said, and burst into tears.

***

**Sandor**

‘I’m sorry about your bro,’ said Arya.

Sandor had emptied the pot of tea and sat cradling his mug, feeling hollow. He shook his head. What was there to say? Was he sorry? 

‘I know you hated each other and everything, but it’s still going to hurt, right?’

‘I guess.’ He leant forward and put his cup down on the table next to one of Aoife’s plastic dragons. ‘I don’t know what to feel about that, to be honest.’ He saw again Gregor’s bruised face, puffed and purple, and the small, defensive eyes within it. Christ. He was dead. ‘I’ve no fucking idea.’ 

‘Basically you are one big mess,’ Arya said. 

She’d not berated him any more since he’d arrived, not asked for details about Wylla, or what had gone on with Sansa. She’d just poured the tea, ordered him to drink it, and they’d watched Aoife mess about – always good to have kids fill the silence. He didn’t think Arya had ever been so kind to him.

‘Yup,’ he said. He felt so fucking bleak.

Aoife came back in with a big kids’ book of maps and plonked it on the table. She was wearing a tutu and a Viking helmet. ‘When we go to Canada, I’m gonna get ith skatheth!’ She slid around the laminated floor to demonstrate her ice skating ability, her arms curved upwards. ‘ _Into the un-knoOOWWWnn!_ ’ she sang.

‘OK,’ he said to her, trying to shake himself into the present. ‘And what about when you go to darkest Peru?’

Aoife stopped singing and looked at him. ‘Huh?’ She looked at Arya. ‘Are we going to Peru, Mummy? To thee Aunt Luthee and Paddington?’

‘Nope,’ said Arya. ‘Just Canada.’

Sandor looked at her. ‘Are you really going there? On holiday?’

A watchful grin. ‘Sansa didn’t get round to telling you that bit, then.’

Sansa. The hurt bitterness in her eyes. He’d never forgive himself. What had he been thinking, keeping it from her? How did he persuade himself that it would be easier – that he wouldn’t lose her? 

‘Telling me what?’ he said.

She told him, and he made himself wake up, listen. Toronto, heading up a new branch for her boss. He could see how chuffed and excited she was, as much as she tried to appear diffident. 

‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Cheers. Feels a bit weird, still. I’ve only just decided, really.’

She’d done so damned well. ‘When will you go?’

‘Four months.’

‘Wow.’ He mustered a semblance of a smile. ‘That’s great.’

‘You’re not fooling anyone with that,’ Arya said. ‘It’s OK to feel crap. Fancy curry tonight?’

‘Always,’ he said, the word cracking.

***

**Sansa**

‘Right,’ said Pod at the kitchen table. ‘I’m going for a walk. Teddy, do you want to come out with me?’

‘YES UNCLE POD I WALK.’ Teddy had insisted on wearing his snake costume all afternoon.

‘Awesome.’ He looked up at Sansa and back to his nephew. ‘You can help me walk Bowie, then.’

‘YES UNCLE POD I GOOD WITH DOG.’

He had already washed the dishes, put a load of washing on and helped Teddy tidy his room, before taking Florence off Sansa for an hour, her daughter slipping blissfully into a long sleep in her uncle’s arms.

‘You are a superhero,’ she said to him.

He gave a small, uncomplicated smile. ‘It’s no problem. I’m happy to help out.’

‘This is your weekend, you’re not supposed to be Mrs Doubtfiring the whole time.’

‘I don’t mind.’ He put his coat on. ‘Honest. Let’s do this,’ he said to Teddy, helping him off with his costume. ‘Go find your coat for me.’

Teddy stomped happily down the corridor.

‘Seriously,’ she said, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t really said anything about Sandor yet. Once she started, she didn’t think she would stop. It didn’t matter. Pod knew the score, because Arya had sent him, and that was enough for now. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ Pod said, as Teddy came back in holding his coat.

***

**Sandor**

The sofa-bed was far too short, and he’d given up trying to sleep. The living room smelt of their takeaway curry. He stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d just had the guts to tell Sansa four years ago that he didn’t want Wylla to do art classes, because she made him feel uncomfortable. Wishing he’d been strong enough not to retaliate after Sansa told him about kissing that guy. Wishing he hadn’t convinced himself that they were probably shagging, that their marriage was ruined, that it didn’t matter what he did. Wishing he’d stopped Wylla. Wishing he’d forgiven his brother a long time ago.

‘Uncle Thandor, are you awake?’ A small shadow in the doorway.

‘I am now,’ he said, craning round. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘Not tired.’ He reached behind him and turned the lamp on as Aoife came up to him, wearing pyjamas with little wolves on them. ‘What are you thinking about?’ she said.

‘Things that are a bit too grown-up for you.’ 

‘I’m growed up. I’m really growed up. My teacher thays tho. I got a gold thtar for being the betht leader.’

‘Good on you.’ She would doubtless be ruling the world soon enough, if Lyanna didn’t get there first. He shunted up and let her lie down next to him on top of the duvet.

‘Why ith Auntie Thantha not here?’

‘She’s up with the kids.’ Their kids. His gut ached, a dull panic at the thought of not being with them every single day of their childhood.

‘With Teddy,’ said Aoife, in a darker voice.

‘Aye, with Teddy. Who you should be nicer to.’

‘But I don’t like him.’

‘Tough luck. He’s your cousin. He likes you.’

‘Doeth he?’

‘Well, he would if you didn’t keep thumping him.’

‘Oh.’ She put both legs in the air and wiggled her feet about. ‘Mummy says you have a brother in Thcotland but he died.’

‘Aye.’ He stared at the ceiling. ‘He did. Just now.’ 

‘Jutht now?’ Her legs came down again.

‘A couple of days ago.’ 

‘Ith he in heaven?’

Sandor took in a deep breath. Existential questions at three am. ‘I don’t know.’ The space below his ribs felt spare, dark.

‘If he ithn’t in heaven, then he ith in hell.’

‘I don’t believe in all that.’

‘Well, wath he bad or wath he good?’

Sandor stared at the ceiling, felt Gregor pulling him by his earlobe to whisper in his ear. _Fuck you, little brother, you stupid wee gobshite. You’re dead fucking meat._ ‘He wasn’t always very nice to people.’

‘He wath bad, then?’

 _I’ve kids,_ he’d said. _All over_. ‘Probably not all the time.’

Aoife hummed that Frozen song she’d sung to death all day. Turned her head to him. ‘I will try and be nither to Teddy.’

‘Good lass. On you go, now. Or I’ll be telling your ma.’

‘OK.’ She slid off the sofa onto the floor. ‘Uncle Thandor?’

He sighed. ‘Aye.’

‘I don’t want to go to Canada.’ Her voice was small.

‘You’ll be grand.’

She examined her palms. ‘But I will mith my friendth.’

‘You’ll make new ones. You can go ice skating with them.’

She kicked the bottom of the sofa, a dead cert for her mother. ‘Mummy sayth that everyone eath pancaketh all the time.’

‘Aye. I’m sure that’s right. Maple syrup every day for you.’

Aoife leant up and kissed him on his unscarred cheek. ‘Goodnight, Uncle Thandor. I love you.’

He felt tears come, a bittersweet sting, and hoped she couldn’t see them. ‘Love you, too. Go on. Scram.’

Sandor listened to her tiptoe down the corridor, before shutting her door with an almighty crash. He stared at the ceiling again, letting the tears stain his cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for starlux for Reasons of Pod!

**Sansa**

‘UNCLE POD HELP ME MAKE CAKE MUMMY.’

‘That’s because Uncle Pod is awesome,’ said Sansa, coming in after her short mid-morning walk with Florence, who’d finally gone to sleep for her nap after twenty minutes in the pram. 

‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Pod, who was wearing an apron. Teddy was covered in flour. ‘I’ll clear it up.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Sansa. ‘Wow. Look at this.’

‘WE MAKE CUPS CAKES,’ said Teddy. There was a smudge of icing in his hair.

‘You clever thing.’

‘CAKE FOR MUMMY. CAKE FOR FLORENCE. CAKE FOR DADDY. CAKE FOR UNCLE POD. CAKE FOR AUNTIE ARYA. CAKE FOR . . .’ He looked uncertainly at Pod.

‘Aoife would love one of your cupcakes,’ said Pod.

Teddy slowly moved one over.

‘Still got lots left over,’ Sansa said. ‘Shall we take them into nursery?’

‘NO THIS IS MORE CAKE FOR DADDY COS HE IS SO BIG AND SO HUNGRY.’

She looked at the ten cakes remaining, and felt a pang of sadness, guilt and hurt.

***

**Arya**

_SANSA:_  
_Your husband is an angel_

_ARYA:_  
_DONT GET TOO USED TO HIM HES ONLY ON TEMPORARY LOAN_

_SANSA:_  
_Love u sis_  
_Is he ok? X_

_ARYA:_  
_Hes not exactly great_  
_Aoifes ordering him to make a den rn_  
_Or maybe he IS the den im not sure_

SANSA:  
OK x

***

**Arya**

‘Christ. I’m done in,’ said Sandor. 

They were sitting down with a cup of tea, Aoife’s multi-tunnel den completed, defended, and then gleefully destroyed. She was now in her room, lustily practising her favourite Justin Bieber song in preparation for her promised performance.

‘That’s my girl.’ Arya said, and cast a quick glance at him. He’d been out with Aoife for a walk this morning, and not said much since he’d been back. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and hadn’t had a shower. ‘How are you doing?’

He shook his head and stared at his tea.

‘You really know how to give yourself a good time, don’t you?’

He glanced at her, faintly puzzled.

‘Your brother dies and the first thing you do is tell Sansa about Wylla.’

‘I didn’t want to keep it in any longer. It was eating me up.’

‘You could have waited a couple of weeks. Got the brother bit out of the way first.’ She was trying to keep things light, but in truth she didn’t know how to play it. Did you grieve for someone you hated? ‘How do you feel about it, really? The brother bit, I mean.’

He didn't speak immediately, gazing down at his mug. Eventually he spoke. ‘I know I should be grieving for him, but more than anything, I just miss my sister.’ A soft breath through his nose. ‘I’ve gone through life imagining her grown up, you know? Imagining what she’d say about stuff I was doing, joining the army, working at your school, marrying Sansa, having kids.’ He sighed. ‘Fucking it all up.’ He sipped from his tea. ‘And I always thought, I bet she’d have stayed in touch with Gregor, no matter what. Given him what for occasionally, kept him in check.’

‘He fucked up your face. I don’t blame you.’

‘I know.’ He didn’t seem to much care about that right now, caught up in thoughts of his sister. ‘She was just a good lass, you know? Now my whole family’s disappeared. Apart from my aunt, I’m the only bastard left.’

‘Not your whole family.’

‘No.’ His expression was pained. ‘You know what I mean. And now with this – I don’t know what’s going to happen.’ He sighed, a scraped-bare sound. ‘I should have told her.’

‘Yeah. You should have.’

‘I just . . . once I’d said what I said –’ he glanced over. ‘When she’d asked me if it was a kiss and I said yes – it seemed too late to go back on it. I said to myself, I’ll tell her tomorrow, or next week. And then we were trying for a baby, and I thought if I told her now, it’d be worse. And she did get pregnant, and –’ he suddenly looked worn out, defeated. ‘You know.’

‘Yeah,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘I know it was only a kiss with her, I knew that up here –’ he tapped his temple. ‘But part of me thought that that was it. She didn’t want to be with me any more, no matter what she said about having too many drinks or what-have-you.’

Sandor had told her this before, after it had happened, but Arya knew she had to just let him talk, just as she knew her own old fear-feelings – dread tightening in her chest, the dead weight in her stomach – and they it overruled all logic and sanity.

‘And as soon as we talked, properly,’ he said. ‘I knew that she’d never do that. That she . . .’ his voice faded and he gazed out of the window. ‘Loved me. That it just been a daft mistake. And I’d made a bigger one. I just didn’t fucking dare tell her.’ He exhaled, and put his chin to his chest.

Neither of them spoke for a while, both staring out of the window at the lowering autumn light.

‘It was Gregor,’ he said, the words barely there. 

‘Yeah . . .?’ said Arya, not really knowing what he meant.

He didn’t turn his head. ‘Our mum died when I was young, and my dad never got over it, or my sister’s accident. He was a cold bastard, almost as much as my brother.’ He looked at the coffee table in front of them. ‘Then it was just the two of us. A bit of me has . . .’ he broke off, seemed to almost laugh, before his frown came back in. ‘A bit of me has never gotten over being told I was shite, that I didn’t deserve to live.’ His voice had become grainy, soft. ‘That no one would ever want me, or love me.’

‘Fuck,’ said Arya. With all her old problems, she’d always had family, even if they were halfway across the globe half of the time. ‘Jesus. I’m sorry. That really sucks.’

‘I’d forgotten he’d said that,’ Sandor said, distantly. As if he was back there, however old he'd been when his bullying wanker brother had been feeding him those lies.

There was the sound of Aoife throwing things around in her room, chatting to herself. 

‘I think you need some counselling,’ she said, as gently as she could. ‘I mean, I know you were one, but maybe everyone needs someone to talk to. And you need to tell Sansa all this.’

He finally looked over at her with tired, grey eyes. ‘I reckon I do.’ He swallowed. ‘The thought of not being with her – with the kids –’

Aoife came through, wearing a green wig and her Bristol Rovers football shirt. ‘I’m ready to thing to you now!’ She did a dramatic twirl, practically losing her balance, before righting again with her arms triumphantly flung out.

‘OK,’ said Sandor, sitting up slowly and rubbing a hand over his face as if to erase the past. ‘Shoot.’

‘BANG,’ said Aoife, pointing a finger-gun at him.

He put his hand on his heart and sank back into the sofa, a much less dramatic version than Arya had seen him do in the past. As Aoife erupted into her song, he stayed in the same position, hand over his heart.

***

**Sandor**

His phone rang. Sansa. He answered, his heart huge and lurching in his chest.

‘HELLO DADDY.’

‘Hiya, Ted,’ he said, not denying the partial relief he felt.

‘MUMMY SAY I CALL YOU. HELLO DADDY.’

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said, never loving him more than in this moment. Wanting his son to be on his knee, bashing his heel against him. ‘I’m here.’

‘HELLO DADDY. UNCLE POD MAKE CAKE AND ME MAKE CAKE.’

‘Uncle Pod, huh?’ he said, and looked over at Arya, who glanced back at him before carrying on playing with Aoife. Of course. That’s where he was. ‘That’s nice.’

‘YOU EAT MY CAKE, DADDY?’ 

‘’Course I will, kiddo,’ he said.

‘EAT CAKE WHEN YOU HOME?’

‘Aye,’ he said. Home. ‘I can’t wait. I bet it’ll taste delicious.’

‘I EAT THREE CAKE.’

‘Well done, you.’ He took a breath. ‘Is Mummy there?’

‘YEAH SHE HERE AND UNCLE POD HERE.’

‘Can you give the phone to her?’ he said.

‘I EAT CAKE, DADDY.’

‘Good for you. Can you pass the phone to her now?’

‘MUMMY DADDY WANT YOU,’ he heard him shout.

There was a soft murmur, and everything in him stilled to try and hear it, to imagine her there.

‘MUMMY TALK LATER. BYE BYE DADDY.’

‘OK, bye then. I’ll see you –’

Teddy had already hung up. Or Sansa had.

***

**Sansa**

‘How did you do it, Pod?’

Pod, currently reading a book to Teddy, looked over.

‘How did you forgive her?’

Pod gave the book to Teddy. ‘D’you reckon you can go play on your own for a bit now?’

‘YES UNCLE POD I GOOD BOY.’

‘Yes, you are, mate.’

‘You’re the best, Teddypops,’ said Sansa, and he stomped out of the room.

Pod moved and sat down on the sofa next to her, and didn’t speak straightaway. ‘It was hard,’ he said eventually, in that usual unadorned way of his. ‘It sort of came out of nowhere – for me, anyway.’ 

Sansa remembered Arya at Aunt Lysa’s forest wedding, slumped in the mud, having just told him what she’d done.

‘I hadn’t known she was feeling so rubbish – she said that she’d thought I was interested in one of my housemates.’ He glanced at her. ‘I wasn’t.’

‘Of course you weren’t.’

‘It’s easy – or it was, then – for Arya to think the worst. She called it her self-destruct button, like if something bad was going to happen she’d press it before she got really hurt. I think Sandor had helped her work that out, back in the day.’

Sansa felt heartache so deep, so bruised, that she could hardly speak. She knew that Sandor possessed that button himself, and had worked hard in his life to keep it at bay. By kissing Daario – and Pod had never done anything, it had just been Arya’s insecurities ruling her – she’d helped him press it.

No. She wasn’t going to feel guilty. ‘I know I messed up. I kissed this guy at work, and it made him respond the way he did, but –’ she shook her head. He let Wylla suck his cock. He let it happen. And he never admitted it.

There was the sound of Teddy loudly making up the story from his picturebook in his bedroom.

‘How did you forgive her?’ she said.

Pod looked thoughtfully into the middle of the room for a moment. ‘It took time,’ he said. ‘You know, I ended it, and went out with someone else for a bit. But I was pretty miserable. A lot of it was working through some self-esteem stuff – you know, Gendry’s pretty hot, if you like that sort of thing.’ He gently grinned, but she could see that there was still a little pain there.

‘Never. You’re way hotter.’ She’d glimpsed Gendry at the wedding, sloping around in low-slung jeans.

Pod scratched the back of his neck, blushing just a little. He still had a dab of flour on his forehead. ‘Thanks.’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to get weird.’

He grinned again, and it faded slowly. ‘So if you’re asking how I forgave her . . . I just went with my gut, in the end. Gut and heart.’ He shrugged. ‘I really missed her. I loved her, all the way through, even though I hated her for a bit, too. You can feel both at the same time. It’s allowed. It doesn’t have to be just one or the other.’ 

Florence snuffled in her babynest, clenching and unclenching one fist slowly. A hint of Sandor in her frowny expression.

‘I’m not saying you have to do the same,’ said Pod. ‘You have to let things come naturally. Sorry, I probably sound like a crap guru, but I had grief counselling as a teenager. After my parents died.’ A tiny half-smile. ‘I know it’s way harder for you. With kids and everything.’

‘I know Arya did something worse, officially.’ Sansa didn’t need to repeat that she’d slept with Gendry not once, but twice. ‘But she did _tell_ you. Sandor’s kept this to himself for four years. If Arya hadn’t pulled him up on it, he might never have said anything.’ 

Pod nodded. ‘You can spend a lot of energy thinking of how it could have been better,’ he said. ‘But the fact is that it happened, and you have to kind of start from now. Think about how you feel right now, and the next day, and the one after that.’

Florence began to quietly mewl, little far-off seagull sounds as she began to wake up.

‘I’ve never regretted it,’ he said. ‘Forgiving Arya. I’ve thought about it sometimes, and I know she has too, but it’s made us really honest with each other. We’ve had to work for it, but it’s been worth it. We’re happy.’ Though he was trying to temper it for her, the smile still spread to his ears.

She felt a tiny, sweet pain in her chest. ‘You’re the best of all of us, Pod. You always have been.’

He shrugged, lightly. ‘It’s not like I don’t get angry, or sad, or any of that stuff. I do. But I just deal with it in my own way. No one else needs to see it.’

Florence suddenly sneezed, and they both gazed down at her. She looked beautifully furious – another Sandor-look. 

‘May I have a hug, please?’ Sansa said, in a small, broken voice.

‘’Course you can.’ Pod gave her a lovely, simple, warm hug, and let her cry on his shoulder.

***

_SANDOR AKA SEXYHUSBANDMAN:_  
_Hey. I tried calling._  
_Just wanted to see if you wanted me to look after the kids while you’re working this week_  
_I can make myself scarce in the evenings if that’s better_  
_Whatever you want_  
_I hope you’re doing OK. Glad Pod’s been helping out_  
_x_

_SANSA:_  
_OK_  
_Yes please_  
_I guess we need to talk some more_  
_Let me know your eta_

***

**Sandor**

‘Thanks for putting me up,’ he said to Arya, as they walked down the corridor. ‘Or putting up with me. One of them.’ A fairly shite attempt at humour. 

‘No worries.’ Arya leaned against the wall, looked up at him with a shrewd expression. ‘You’re going to sort it, aren’t you?’

‘I’ll do my best. But it’s not down to me.’ 

‘I don’t want to be on the other side of the Atlantic knowing you guys are all busted up.’

He nodded. ‘No pressure, then.’

She opened the door and he stepped onto the pavement, turned back.

‘No pressure.’ She went to speak, and instead looked past him onto the street. Finally back at him. ‘You’ve got a little sister, you know.’ She shrugged, looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘Kind of. No matter what happens.’

He felt his heart heave. Canada was really fucking far away. ‘Christ. I’m going to miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too,’ she said. 

They hugged, and he thought of the angry wee girl she’d been, and how she’d grown. 

Arya pulled away. ‘Now get out of my face and sort your fucking life out.’

***

**Sansa**

Evening. She’d driven Pod to the train station, and got Teddy in the bath early. Read him three stories. Fed Florence.

Now she was sitting at the dining table with a glass of probably ill-advised wine, watching the condensation pearl on the glass, watching the kitchen clock. Half an hour. Twenty minutes. Ten. Five.

There was the gentle click of the front door. She listened to his familiar sounds, the shuffle as he slipped off his shoes, the clink of keys into the bowl. Coat off. Normally by now he would have shouted a hello, but instead she listened to the long, weighted silence. She in the kitchen, him in the hallway. Both waiting.

Finally, after at least a minute, he appeared at the door. ‘Hi,’ he said. He looked so worn. Guarded.

‘Hi.’ She looked at him, the big build, the broad shoulders, the dark hair and eyes. Remembered seeing him for the first time at the Wetherspoon’s in Bristol, saying _off with you_ and turning back to his pint.

She stood up, and he followed her to the living room, the dog at his heels, and sat down beside her on the sofa. 

They looked at each other, and both took a deep breath.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t prepared for the stronger reactions to the recent SanSan storyline, though of course I’m still absolutely sticking to my story . . . in my plan there are TWO MORE Potentials ever, and with the whole cast tumbling back in, but for my mental health I’ll take a necessary break for now and work on my original stuff; forgive me also if I don’t reply to comments straightaway. 
> 
> Thanks so much to the Potential!die!hards! for the support – y’all know who you are. Love and light to you x


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